


Honeymoon Phase

by unfolded73



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: Rose texts the Doctor while he's in a meeting, and sexy hijinks ensue. Coauthored with fid_gin.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Kudos: 19





	Honeymoon Phase

**Author's Note:**

> Notes when originally published August 9, 2010: Not gonna lie, this was entirely an excuse for porn. There may have been a checklist of sex acts involved. Enjoy.
> 
> Notes today: Making one more push to archive all the stray fics that I never posted here because I saw my word count was approaching 800,000, and it was making me crazy that there are fics I've written (or co-written, in this case) that might be lost to the aether.

An hour into his briefing session with various Torchwood officials regarding the state of the healed breach between his current universe and his former one, the Doctor decided he had discovered the secret of time travel without a TARDIS. There was, of course, the way that time raced by in moments he shared with Rose, and now, conversely, there was the unbearable speed at which it was crawling while he sat with glazed eyes listening to a representative from UNIT drone on about protocols. It was always either too fast or too slow; time never seemed to pass normally for him – the minutes measured in anguish at the separation from his ship and the integration into this too-brief human life seeming like years, and those measured in ecstasy at rediscovering Rose in every conceivable way flying by like seconds. If he could find the balance between the two, he thought to himself, maybe that day he might begin to truly feel human, instead of like a Time Lord trapped in an uncooperative, alien skin. 

Everyone was staring at him, and the Doctor realised they were waiting for a response. “Absolutely!” he chirped, with no idea what he was agreeing to. From the nodding heads and approving glances, he supposed it had been the right response.

There was a sudden and strange tickle against his left hip, and he jumped a bit with surprise before he recognized it was his mobile, vibrating. Good thing, the vibrate feature: it had only taken one instance of him being interrupted during a particularly stern lecture to one of his fellow scientists by the honking ooga-horn sound of his text message alert for him to discover _that_. 

He discreetly fished the phone out from his pocket and smiled softly when he saw it was a text from Rose.

> _Got off early for once. When will you be home?_

He slid the device back into his pocket, thinking he’d send her a quick message in a while if it looked like he was going to be trapped all night.

A scant couple of minutes had passed when his hip vibrated once more, catching him off-guard again and making him wiggle in his chair. This time a few heads swivelled toward him as he rummaged in his trouser pocket. They all, no doubt, saw his mouth drop open when he pressed a button on the phone and read:

> _Hurry home. Want you. Can’t stop thinking of sucking your cock._

The Doctor was not prone to blushing, but now he felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Something good?” the female engineer seated next to him whispered sarcastically, and he quickly put the phone back in his trouser pocket, trying to focus on the discussion going on around the table. He was beginning to realise that there was no reason for him to stay at this meeting; he’d given his expert assessment of the breach (i.e., that there no longer was one), and now the rest of them were just repeating the same arguments over and over again.

The phone buzzed against his leg once more, and with a feeling of excitement so strong it bordered on dread, he slipped the mobile out and saw that there was a picture attached to this message. 

“Sorry, just need to...” He stood as he spoke, addressing the room as a whole and very carefully maneuvering his stack of reports in front of his groin to hide the stirrings he’d felt beginning at Rose’s last message, at the thought of her kneeling in front of him or bent over his supine body, performing the act she’d purportedly been fantasising about. It wasn’t difficult to believe that she’d be excited at the thought; in the weeks since Bad Wolf Bay, Rose seemed almost preoccupied with it, and had made him come with her mouth several times. Not that he would ever, _ever_ dream of complaining. Rose was just as much, if not more, talented with her mouth and hands than she was with the rest of her body, and she was always happy to allow him to reciprocate.

These thoughts weren’t helping.

He made it out of the conference room, mumbling some excuse which may have contained the words ‘Jackie’ and ‘car crash.’ Stumbling down several hallways, he eventually reached the privacy of his office, and only after closing and locking the door did he finally allow himself to open the message:

> _I’m touching myself now just thinking about it._

And below the text...oh.

Rose’s phone had a very good camera. It was important when at any time she might need to send pictures of an unidentified ship in the sky, or strange markings in blood at a crime scene. So the picture the Doctor stared at now of her bare legs spread wide and her fingers down the front of her pink silk knickers was of high quality. He could see the swirled patterns of her pubic hair pressed against the interior of the flimsy material, and the dark hollow of the inside of each thigh on either side of the thin strip of fabric. He thought he saw just a glimmer of deep pink where her knickers had slipped to the side, pulled askew by the motion of her fingers. Her other hand was absent and, he deduced, holding the phone to take the picture.

Sitting at his desk, his mouth dry, his erection tenting the front of his trousers, the Doctor tapped a reply back to her with unsteady fingers.

> _Tell me more._

Her response came quickly:

> _Where are you?_
> 
> _My office._
> 
> _I should have stuck around; you could be bending me over the desk right now._

He moaned when he read that response, one hand stealing down to stroke himself through the layers of clothes. The Doctor took a moment to be ashamed that he was indulging in such behavior in his office, or at all really, but one of the first things he’d learned about sex in this human body was that arousal could be all-consuming, making everything else seem unimportant.

He didn’t have to use much imagination to conjure a clear picture of the scenario Rose had texted, because he had done that very thing the week before. A late night pouring over radio telescope signals led to flirting and innuendo and stolen kisses and eventually, Rose’s hips pressed against his desk, a star map crumpling up in one of her fists as she came. It only seemed needlessly risky in retrospect, as he was tucking his softening cock back into his trousers and Rose was finger-combing her hair with a naughty smirk on her face. While he’d been flipping her skirt up over her bum and sinking into her body, sex on his desk had felt like the best idea he’d ever had.

Rose said it was normal, called it their ‘honeymoon phase,’ implying that he wouldn’t want her this badly or this frequently forever. And while he knew that was true in theory, he found it impossible to imagine.

The Doctor was shaken from his reverie by another text message:

> _What do u want to do to me?_

He wrote back immediately.

> _Taste you. Make you come._

Slowly unzipping his trousers, he waited for her reply. He shifted his pants out of the way, his eyes falling closed as, under his desk, his fingers closed around the bare skin of his cock.

> _I’m so wet, thinking about you. Need you to fill me._

Rose’s response made the last of his inhibitions melt away, and the Doctor lost himself to the friction of his hand, to the slide of skin on skin. He could imagine he was kissing Rose’s mouth, the taste of her sex still on his tongue and lips, his cock moving in and out of her. His breath came in short pants as he stroked faster and faster. He had just opened his eyes, looking for a box of tissues on his desk, when another text appeared.

> _Are you masturbating? Don’t come._

Well, that was just rude, he thought. He had been getting close, and it took a supreme force of will to unclench his fist. His cock was so hard it ached, and he shook his head to try to clear the fog of arousal. He picked his phone up off the desk and sent one more message:

> _On my way home. Don’t move._

***

He had her up against the wall the instant he was through the door, nearly knocking the breath out of her in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, his body all sharp angles against hers, pressing against her in all the right places. Rose thought, not for the first time since she’d become intimate with this Doctor, that it was exciting and almost a little sad how overwhelmed he always seemed by his own libido – he was certainly capable of loving her slowly and gently, but she could tell it was difficult for him when he got like he was now: wild-eyed, disheveled, kissing her furiously as his hands scrambled to remove what little of her clothing remained. It was like he was possessed by something he didn’t understand and couldn’t quite control.

Quickly, too quickly, her underwear were whisked off, he had her lifted against the wall and was fumbling at the waist of his trousers, obviously intending to fuck her against the wall right there in the entry hall of their flat. Rose tapped his shoulder, breathing heavy against his mouth: “Wait.”

She felt him tense up. There was that, too; while he was eager and passionate when they were together, he was also, she knew, terrified of doing something wrong, of hurting or not pleasing her, and she could almost _hear_ him worrying now. She explained herself immediately, not wanting him to think she didn’t intend to finish what they’d started. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” she said. “I want to enjoy you properly.”

He lowered her carefully, his wicked grin assuring her that it had been the right thing to say. Stepping aside, he swept his arm theatrically in the direction of their room. “Lead the way, Miss Tyler,” he practically purred.

She could feel his eyes moving over her nude buttocks and thighs as she walked slowly, deliberately, in front of him. “Enjoying the view?” she tossed back over her shoulder.

“Behave,” he growled, “or we’ll never make it to bed.” It heightened her arousal, feeling him back there watching her, stalking her. Aware that he would probably pounce the second they were through the door, she turned quickly once she’d crossed the threshold.

“Strip,” she ordered. He hesitated for only a moment before complying, never taking his eyes from hers as he shrugged out of his suit jacket, loosened and removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt. His expression was dark and promising, his body thin and strong, and she took time to admire it as it was bared to her. Once naked, he reached for her and she took a step back, sliding to her knees in front of him. The wood floor was cold and hard beneath her, and the Doctor – standing before her completely bare, breathing heavily with his hands in fists at his sides – was warm where she wrapped her fingers around the length of him, but just as hard.

She took just the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue like an open-mouthed kiss against his penis, savouring the taste and texture of him, and he hissed, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Rose knew that, while he obviously enjoyed it when she did this, he was also curious about her penchant and enthusiasm for it. To that, she would have explained that it was the intense intimacy of sharing this with the man she loved and thought she’d never see again that was the draw, or that it was the ability to make him incoherent with pleasure when normally he always had his words. She would have explained these things...but she’d rather just show him, she thought, relaxing the muscles of her throat to take him in as deeply as she comfortably could. “I’m...not going to last long like this,” he panted a second later.

Pausing just long enough to look up at him through half-lidded eyes, she answered: “I don’t mind.” Bending to take him into her mouth again, she thought of how she loved to finish him off this way, or perhaps pulling back at the last second and using her hand to bring him to orgasm on her chin and breasts. Almost guiltily, she remembered how she had intended to take this slowly, but she was aroused beyond rational thought and wanted only to taste him, to hear and feel him come for her.

The Doctor, however, bent forward and placed his hands on either side of her face, holding her away. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear as he looked down at her, his face shining and his hair spiked with sweat, and shook his head in a ‘No’ gesture. “Not yet,” he said, his voice low.

Slipping her hands into his, she let herself be tugged to her feet and pulled forward against him. It was easy to forget when he was clothed, when she spotted him across a room or when they sat across the table from each other during a Sunday dinner at her parents’, how much taller he was than her. He was somehow more substantial this way, unable to hide behind all those layers he still insisted upon wearing now as much as he had as a Time Lord. Their bodies came together, his erection warm and insistent against her stomach, and when he kissed her he had to bend down to do so.

She let herself be walked backward the few remaining feet to their bed. When she laid back the Doctor was over her instantly, seemingly reluctant to break that physical contact, sliding down her body and leaving a trail of wet kisses. Rose let her legs fall open, combed her fingers through his hair as he went, could hear him speaking softly. She had to strain her ears to make out any words, and wasn’t even sure it was completely English he was speaking. He’d used his own, alien language around her more often recently, ever since one morning when he’d woken shaking, his eyes shining in the darkness of their bedroom, and had whispered: “I’m forgetting, Rose.” She was sure she could make out words in her own language now, though, and that “Love,” “You” and “Taste” were among them.

Preparing herself when he moved between her legs and gently brushed his lips over the soft hair there, she still cried out at the first warm, wet swirl of his tongue inside of her. Her upper body arched off the bed, her stomach tightening as if she’d been splashed with something cold. Or hot. The initial, overwhelming sensation melted into lazy pleasure as she relaxed and her body found its rhythm, rising to meet his mouth. He moaned as he tasted her, his breath hot against her as he licked and sucked at her clitoris, his sideburns a scratchy soft rub against the smooth skin of her inner thighs. Two long fingers slid inside of her, fucked her slowly as he continued the relentless, steady pace with his tongue, and soon she was coming, hips bucking and fingernails raking across his scalp, pulling him toward her, into her, holding him there, just _there_.

As she came down she lay trembling with her eyes closed, feeling him sit up, feeling him watching her. She wanted to cry, or laugh, with the intensity of her love for him and the way he made her feel. Rose still avoided thinking of the other Doctor when she could help it, but she was comfortable in her belief that she did love _this_ man, not only for who he was and where he came from but for all of his not-quite-human foibles and endearing insecurities, for being _him_. He didn’t quite believe her when she told him that, she knew, just as she would need to learn to believe him when he promised he would stay with her forever, would never disappear, and so she treasured these moments. Sex, fucking, making love or whatever else they called it, it was open, and honest, and she would have him in every and any way possible. Any way he wanted which, as it had been so many years ago before they were even lovers, was almost always what she wanted, too.

“How do you want to come?” she asked drowsily.

***

The Doctor stared at Rose as she lay on her back, her cheeks flushed, her breathing punctuated by tiny moans as she recovered from her orgasm. Her eyes were still closed, but she wasn't going to make him wait any longer. He was extremely grateful for that.

The Doctor wanted, in that moment, everything. He watched her lying there, wanton, naked, legs spread apart, and he wanted it all. He wanted to fuck her cunt, now so wet and easy after she'd come, wanted to pound into her over and over, pursuing nothing but his own release. He wanted to crawl up the bed and straddle her face, let her suck him off as she'd been prepared to do before, perhaps one of her fingers working its way inside his him as she did so. He wanted to fuck her arse, feel the almost unbearable friction of that tight channel clenching around his cock. Oh, all the gods, the things he wanted to do to this woman – this woman that he loved and respected as a partner and an equal – the things he wanted to do would make the Master blush.

He knelt between her legs, caressing them, stroking gently up and down before coaxing her knees into a deeper bend. Rose was willing and relaxed; a faint smile on her face as she watched him. He reached between her thighs with the softest of touches through her wetness before shifting his hand lower, one finger exerting light pressure against her anus.

“May I?”

Rose moaned faintly and nodded, twisting her body around and reaching for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. She handed it to him.

He was still so very aroused, and he tried to focus on preparing Rose’s body for him, taking deep breaths as he worked a lubricated finger into her arse, pressing his thumb inside her cunt at the same time. She sighed in response, moving her hips, pleasure evident on her face. He fingered her for several minutes, willing his own body to calm a little bit as Rose’s mood shifted from lazy, post-coital bliss to renewed lust.

When he felt like he couldn’t bear to wait another second, the Doctor squeezed more lubricant into the palm of his hand and stroked his cock while Rose watched, a greedy look in her eye. She scooted down the bed, moving so that the backs of her thighs rested on top of his.

He pressed against her narrow opening with his cock, feeling the resistance and trying not to go too hard, too fast. When the head of his penis slipped in, Rose hissed through her teeth and the Doctor stilled. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He felt her relax again. “I’m fine; go ahead.” For her part, Rose began moving, pressing against him and letting him sink further inside her. She moaned as she did it, a sound he couldn’t interpret.

“Is it hurting you?”

Rose shook her head. “I’ve told you before, it’s good. I love this.” He held still while she worked her way onto him, until his cock was completely buried. He moved tentatively then, rocking a little but stopping short of thrusting within her.

“Fuck me, Doctor. I’m not made of glass.”

He raised up on his knees, pulling out a little and pushing back in, groaning at the fireworks of sensation it caused. She was so tight, and every movement was exquisitely pleasurable.

“Yes,” Rose gasped, her eyes shut. She blindly reached for one of his hands and put it between her legs. “Your fingers in me, please, oh God, need you to fill me everywhere.”

Two fingers slipped inside her easily, making Rose cry out and buck her hips harder. Her own hand stayed on her clit, where she pressed and rubbed while he did his best to establish a steady, thrusting rhythm, lengthening his stroke slightly every time. Her fingers brushed his and he stilled, suddenly much too close. He tried talking, focusing on the words as he began to move again, slowly.

“Wanted this,” he gasped, his eyes closed so he could not see her face or her hand, could only feel. “All those years, I wanted you.”

“Like this?” Rose asked, moaned. The Doctor’s eyes fluttered open again, saw her head thrown back, her fingers working, her body gently rocked by the motion of his hips. “You wanted this?”

“I wanted _you_ ,” he repeated, and his voice trembled at the power of the memory of his cowardice, his feelings of impotence in the face of his intense feelings for this human girl. Never again, he thought, his one heart swelling with resolve and love. He would never hesitate, never lose that chance with her again.

“Yes,” she said in an almost-sob. “Want you so much. For so long, I’ve ... God, don’t stop ... Can’t ever get enough of this, of _you_ ...” She came then, her words trailing off not into a scream, but open-mouthed silence that seemed beyond anything she was capable of vocalizing. Her muscles clenched powerfully around him, and he stopped, waiting for her to finish, to relax, before he began to move again. Rose let her hands come to rest on his thighs, gently stroking and encouraging. His own orgasm had been so close for so long, and he reached for it, willing himself to finally fall. When it came, it was like an explosion radiating from his groin, and he let go of everything but that best of all possible feelings in the universe, chasing it and falling with it and letting it sweep him away in its current. He could hear Rose’s wordless murmurs under the sounds that were ripped from his own throat as he gave himself up to sensation.

When he could open his eyes, he pulled gently out of her and collapsed next to Rose on his stomach. He could feel his pulse pounding in his skull as it gradually slowed.

Rose made a satisfied noise and stretched. “I’m so glad you came home.”

He giggled, his face still mostly pressed into the pillow. His limbs seemed to weigh a ton. “Me too.” Opening one eye, Rose’s left breast filled his field of vision, blurry, rising and falling as she caught her breath. She rolled toward him and rubbed his back, nuzzling against his arm.

“How about we order one of those pizzas you like with everything on it, and then curl up on the sofa and watch telly?”

The Doctor hummed noncommittally; he was hungry, but he also didn’t want to move a muscle.

They were interrupted by the trill of Rose’s mobile. The Doctor closed his eyes and listened as Rose grabbed it up from the nightstand, where she’d left it after she was finished torturing him with it, no doubt.

“Hi, Mum,” she said without preamble, and then there was a long pause during which the Doctor could hear an uninterrupted stream of Jackie-speak. “No, I ... but ... what did ...?” Rose was failing to get a word in edgewise. Finally she poked the Doctor in the shoulder, and he looked up to see her frowning at him. Her thumb was over the phone’s microphone. “Any idea why Dad heard people gossiping at the office that Mum had been in a car accident?”


End file.
